The Evil That Men Do
by Koneko Cain
Summary: Repost. Yami Marik visits Yami Bakura in the shadow realm, violence and yaoi ensue.


Yeah. This has no plot. Re-posted by request.

The Evil That Men Do

"Why have you called me out, Marik?" Bakura hissed, narrowing long-dead crimson eyes at the manifestation of rage. Marik smiled in a way that sent a warning flare off in the back of the white ghost's mind and he found himself fighting the irrational urge to back away, nervous despite himself.

"I always wondered what it would feel like to fuck a creature as cold and dead as you are, little tomb-wraith." The tanned darkness said in liquid tones, eyes heavy-lidded as he let his possessive gaze sweep over the lithe, pale figure before him.

"You're asking for death, Marik. If wasting my time is all you called me to this realm to do then I'm leaving. Bother Pharaoh if you're so enamoured with necrophilia." The spirit of the thief snarled, turning to leave but pausing as Marik held up a small glass bottle filled with clear liquid.

"Are you sure you want to leave without this?" Malik's anger grinned wickedly, his true nature showing through his eyes.

"No more games." Bakura turned back to Marik, narrowing his hollow eyes in hatred. Marik nodded and let the bottle vanish back to wherever he'd hidden it in the material realm, taking slow, meaningful steps toward the other darkness.

"That was an antidote to the poison that's going to send you back into the Ring for another three millennia, unless you give me what I want."

Bakura smirked, almost transparent white hair falling over his eyes as he tilted his head to the side cockily.

"You can't poison a ghost..." He began, trailing off in horror as he realised what Marik meant. "My light..."

"He won't even feel ill until tomorrow sometime, at which point his chances - and yours - of survival will be slim to none even WITH the antidote. To save you both all you'd have to do is take him over and drink the antidote. He'll never even know he'd been poisoned."

"What do you want of me, tomb keeper?" Bakura demanded, startled when Marik darted forward and shoved him to the floor, pinning him down as he tried to push away.

"To fuck a dead man. Did you think I was joking?" The larger darkness hissed, forcing Bakura's hands above his head and holding them there by the thin wrists.

"I'll die again before I let you touch me, you worthless product of Malik's dementia! Take your hands off-" Bakura was cut off with a sharp intake of breath as Marik crushed their lips together, forcing a knee between the pale ghost's thighs.

"Now, now, you'll be doubly damned if you let your hikari die, and do you really relish the thought of another eternity laying dormant, waiting for a new host? All you have to do is stop struggling and you can have the antidote the moment I'm through with you."

Bakura forced back a groan as the knee between his legs ground against him, turning his head away when Marik tried to kiss him again. Painfully heated lips instead descended to the albino spirit's throat, a hot tongue trailing up icy skin to Bakura's angular jaw.

"Release me, I will not play your games. I have no proof you have done anything to my light," the thief hissed in a voice laced with death. He'd killed people in terrible ways for much less than this.

"It doesn't matter, you won't take the chance. No matter how many pieces of your soul you have scattered around in case someone banishes you again, if your hikari dies there won't be anything you can do about it. You'll be sealed up again. I'm sure the first few thousand years were bad enough." Marik's breath was a mocking whisper of heat against the cold skin of his neck and he shuddered in disgust.

"Perhaps I'd rather be sealed up again than let you paw at me." Bakura tried to jerk his arms free, but Marik was stronger and held him down easily. The violet-eyed darkness chuckled deeply, the sound vibrating against Bakura's frigid skin.

"Perhaps you'll enjoy it."

Those darkly spoken words set Bakura off, and the smaller spirit gave a near scream of rage, thrashing wildly beneath Marik. Malik's darkness had an unbreakable grip on him though, and no matter how violently he twisted and bucked underneath him, Bakura eventually fell back, exhausted and panting roughly.

"Are you all done struggling?" Marik murmured in a silken voice, trailing his fingers down Bakura's throat to trace his collarbone as the white haired creature turned his head away and lay there, trying to get his breath back.

"I'll kill you..." The thief spat venomously.

"You can't kill what's never been alive," Marik grinned insanely, hooking his finger in the collar of Bakura's shirt and dragging it down, tearing the thin fabric open.

"I will make you suffer for this." The tomb robber turned his head to look at Marik again, eyes glowing blood red with rage and the promise of murder.

"I love that look," Marik licked his lips, eyes half lidded with lust as he stared down at the deathly pale ghost lying there in jeans and the tattered remains of his shirt, wrists still held firmly above his head and eyes glowing unnaturally. "Now, are you going to co-operate, or do I have to beat you until you can't fucking move?"

Bakura narrowed his eyes, letting the glow die, and turned his head to the side once more, setting his jaw tightly.

"Then have done with it quickly." The fiend growled through clenched teeth, knowing he didn't have a choice in the matter. Marik seemed pleased with the answer he received, holding Bakura's pale wrists in one hand and snaking the other down to remove the last of the tomb robber's clothing.

"Pharaoh's skin is warm," Marik made a disgusted face, "just like a mortal. I've touched him before, he's so... alive." That seemed to annoy the larger darkness. Bakura closed his eyes and kept his face turned away, half listening to Marik's words and half cursing his own helplessness. He hadn't had his control so thoroughly ripped away by anyone before. Even the Pharaoh had never managed that - he'd always had some backup plan, even in death. Now everything he was had ended up in Marik's hands, on a hard stone floor in some dark corner of the shadow realm.

"You, though... your skin is cold. Even your eyes look dead. There's no colour in you, it's just perfect." The Egyptian's words were a hiss, fingertips trailing down white thighs held apart once again by a knee placed between them.

Bakura shuddered at the feeling, keeping his eyes shut tightly as the warm touch moved beneath him.

"You're the first true albino I've ever seen. Apparently they don't live very long," Marik laughed, driving two long fingers sharply into Bakura. The thief flinched in pain but kept his jaw clenched, refusing to make a sound as the fingers scissored inside him, another adding to the burning pain. He wondered if he was bleeding yet, knowing it would get worse and wondering why Marik bothered with this instead of just taking him straight away.

"Does it hurt, tomb-wraith? Don't worry, a little pain is good at the beginning. It will feel much better soon." Marik leant down and kissed his chest, lips making his icy skin tingle. Gritting his teeth, Bakura focussed on the warmth of Marik's tongue tracing the contours of his chest - concentrating on anything other than the lancing pain between his thighs. It was beginning to subside, though, and he slowly relaxed from the coiled tenseness making his muscles tremble. Marik noticed him go limp and laughed softly, lips touching his skin right over where his still heart should have been beating.

"Wonderful..."

The heated fingers withdrew and Bakura tensed, ready for the pain he knew was coming. He wasn't going to give Marik the satisfaction of hearing him scream, even if the bastard tore him in half. He didn't resist as his thighs were forced wider apart, his nails digging into his palms, feeling the heat of Marik pressing against him.

Instead of thrusting into him mercilessly, as Bakura had expected, Marik slid in slowly, wringing a strangled little sound of pain from the thief's throat. His body arched like a bow, trembling in silent agony, Marik's large hand on his hip forcing him back down to the ground.

Marik waited, buried to the hilt in the ghostly thief's icy cold body, biding his time until the pain he knew Bakura was feeling had passed.

"I told you… to have done with it quickly…" The tomb robber growled savagely, forcing the shuddering gasps running through him under control.

"It's only fun," Marik whispered, "if you enjoy it too."

Bakura snarled angrily, muscles taut and trembling in pain.

"I don't want to enjoy this."

"…Why not?"

The question surprised Bakura and he looked up sharply, trying to catch the expression in Marik's eyes at those words. The larger spirit chose then to move, though, and drew out in one long, steady movement before plunging back in as deeply as he could. Not having been prepared for that, Bakura had no chance to ready himself for the sudden burst of pleasure within him. To Marik's delight the pale soul thief threw his head back and let out a long, feral-sounding groan, his back arching up from the floor.

"Yesss," Marik hissed, driving into his captive again before Bakura had a chance to compose himself. "Don't hide it, show me. Show me I'm the only one who can do this to you!"

Bakura twisted and gasped beneath him, knowing he should be fighting to keep from drowning in the pleasure but not having time enough to collect his thoughts. All he could think was that Marik should have been hurting him a lot more than he was.

"There's no – there's no poison…" The thief moaned, feeling the warm hand on his hip stroking along his waist and stomach.

"You wouldn't let me do this unless I threatened you." Marik replied, taking a risk and releasing Bakura's wrists. The thief tensed, knowing he could bolt now if he wanted, but gave a shuddering moan as Marik shifted his angle and plunged into him again.

There was no poison. This was HIS choice now, which suddenly gave him back his control over the situation. He wasn't helpless now. The feeling of Marik's burning heat over and inside his cold body made him want to let loose and scream like he hadn't in longer than he could remember. It was intoxicating, no matter how much he reminded himself that he hated Marik almost as much as the pharaoh. He had to admire Marik more, though. The pharaoh had never managed to so completely strip him of his power and do anything like THIS to him. Marik was close to making him enjoy it.

"Scream," Marik moaned, slamming into him hard enough that his hand flew up to cling to the tanned spirit's arm against his will, nails digging in like claws and head arched back to expose his white, slender throat.

"I've never wanted anything as much as I want to hear you scream…" Marik's deep voice sent a thrill of excitement through Bakura and he let out a tight, strangled cry that set the bigger spirit to moving faster, a heated hand snaking between white thighs to encircle the flesh there. He bit back a gasp as that burning hand surrounded him, nails drawing blood from Marik's arm. He was so close, trying not to give Marik what he wanted but knowing he was going to scream anyway. His writhing heightened into desperate thrashing, hair flying and nails clawing at Marik's chest, helpless again because of the other spirit but this time too far gone to care. Large, warm hands locked around his wrists again, pinning them above his head to hold him down, lips crushing against his own in a forceful kiss and meeting no resistance.

Bakura tried to hold back the acid wave of pleasure building in him, clenching his fists and panting desperately.

"Scream for me…" A demonic purr in his ear from Marik, and Bakura gave in. Throwing his head back, he screamed inhumanly, all sharp teeth and twisted pleasure, cool, pale skin slick with sweat and wild eyes. As he watched, all Marik could think was that the thief looked like some beautiful creature from the deepest pits of hell, ancient and wicked and completely at his mercy. The scream he'd been longing for didn't disappoint him and he drove into the thief one last time, snarling savagely in release as he buried his seed in the trembling body beneath him.

This time, when he leant down to kiss Bakura, the thief opened his mouth and met his tongue desperately, taking all he could get and giving back the same. The kiss lasted until Marik felt the tremors leave him and the cold body beneath his fall limp and exhausted.

"Stay with me tonight." The tomb keeper breathed in Bakura's ear, slipping out of him and taking him in strong arms tentatively, expecting the thief to push him away and run. To his surprise, Bakura nodded in the bigger spirit's arms, not saying a word as he looked up at Marik with dark eyes.

"This will be more." Marik voiced what he'd wanted all along, and with satisfaction he watched Bakura nod again silently and close his wicked eyes, drifting slowly to sleep in his arms.

End.


End file.
